


1:58 a.m. at the Nutritional Engineering Conference

by ckret2



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, First Kiss, Hotels, M/M, Membrane Has A Science Kink, Oblivious Professor Membrane, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Trans Male Character, Zim Disguised Himself As An Adult Human AU, Zim Has a Praise Kink (Invader Zim), brief appearances by Dib Gaz & Gir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22728343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: "I'm so sorry," the hotel front clerk said, "it looks like your original reservation was for a room with one king-sized bed. You said that you reserved a room with two double beds?""We should have," Membrane said, puzzled. He looked down at Zim, who'd made the reservation.Zim's eyes were wide with shock. "Ohhh, the 'king' refers to thesizeof the bed."And that was how Membrane spent two sleepless nights at a scientific conference lying in bed next to the most brilliant, unusual, fascinating, anddefinitely humanman that he had ever met.
Relationships: Professor Membrane/Zim
Comments: 14
Kudos: 170





	1:58 a.m. at the Nutritional Engineering Conference

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for [armcontrolnerve](https://armcontrolnerve.tumblr.com/). I made a post a while ago about a plot concept for a [Zimbrane slow burn as paranormal/psychological horror story](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/188240896962/a-while-back-you-said-generally-i-like-to-imagine), and ey asked for a one shot based on one of the early scenes before it takes the turn into horror involving a There's Only One Bed situation at a hotel, also could they have their first kiss there, also could Prof Membrane casually be trans, and I was like, absolutely.

"All right," Membrane said, kneeling on the front step so he could put his hands on both his children's shoulders. "Foodio has your meal plans for the next two days. I've left my number, the hotel's number, the hotel room's number, my hotel roommate's number, the lab's number, the nutritional engineering conference organizer's number, and the numbers of the top five hospitals in the state on a list taped in strategic spots around the house, as well as to both of your backs." Dib and Gaz attempted to twist around to see. "Son! Foodio is keeping your _superhero shots_ in the fridge. Remember to take them."

" _Dad,_ " Dib said, embarrassed. "You don't have to call them that. I _know_ they're not superhero shots, come on."

"What healthy skepticism! I'm proud of you!" Membrane ruffled Dib's hair. "That's right, son. Don't trust any claim until you have empirical, scientific evidence!" Which he would get in approximately four months, once his x-ray vision had developed. And his facial hair. "Daughter! No staying up all night gaming! I've installed self-destruct mechanisms on your consoles and computer that will activate if you turn them on between ten p.m. and six a.m.

Gaz grunted in displeasure.

A car beeped behind Membrane. "That's my ride!" He stood and raised a hand to signal his suitcase to hover out of the living room and to his side. "I'll be gone for the next fifty-one hours, barring flight delays. Take care of each other, don't fight, don't get arrested, remember to feed the dog—"

"What dog?" Gaz asked.

"Hey!" a voice yelled. Membrane turned to see Zim leaning out the back window of the car, his waist balanced on the window frame and precariously holding himself up with his hands. "Hurry it up! Airplanes don't just wait for people, you know!"

"Just a moment!"

Dib's eyes shot wide open. "Wait. You're going to the conference with _him?_ "

"Well, yes," Membrane said, as if this should be a natural assumption. "Didn't I tell you that I would be splitting a hotel room to cut costs with the lab's star scientist? Star scientist besides me."

"You're _rooming_ with him?!" From zero to full panic in two questions. "Dad, no! You can't—"

"Son, _please_." Of all the times Dib could cause such a scene, did he have to have one of these little episodes in front of Zim?

Well. Of course it was in front of Zim. Membrane should have expected this.

Ever since Take Your Kids To Work Day—just a couple of weeks after Zim had started working at Membrane Labs—Dib had been convinced that Membrane's newest brilliant inventor was an extraterrestrial. Oh, he'd caused _quite_ a stir. Membrane had nearly needed to physically haul him out of the lab.

Membrane blamed himself. Dib was such a remarkably brilliant child, Membrane had happily allowed him to indulge his curiosity in the paranormal. He'd assumed that Dib's keen intellect would allow him to sift through the flimsy eyewitness accounts of ghosts, aliens, and monsters to let him realize how riddled they were with shoddy science and logical fallacies. Instead, before Membrane had noticed—curse his rigorous work schedule!—Dib had tumbled headfirst into the wildest of unscientific conspiracy theories. And now he was at that age where anything a parent and/or legal guardian says is short-sighted foolishness and it's the stubborn child's duty to help them see the light. Anything Membrane tried to tell Dib about properly vetting the reliability of anecdotal evidence or sorting out a layperson's opinions from an expert's evidence- and education-based observations went in one ear and out the other.

Which was how Membrane had ended up, mortified, dragging his own son away from a new hire as Dib spewed a wild diatribe against space aliens—and all while attempting to pull out the new hire's hair.

Membrane had been fortunate (and extremely grateful) that Zim had taken the assault in good humor and decided not to press charges. "It's remarkable, isn't it," Zim had said at the time, "how gullible humans can be. A few little cosmetic changes and they won't even notice what should be completely obvious to them." Membrane had heartily agreed and apologized again for the fact that Dib had so wildly misjudged Zim merely because of a horribly disfiguring skin condition.

Dib had improved his behavior since then—he'd visited Membrane's lab a couple of times, and while he'd never stopped trying to convince Membrane (and anyone else listening) that Zim was an alien, he at least hadn't tried to assault him again. He'd even recently conceded that Zim didn't seem, as Dib had first assumed, to be a _dangerous_ alien, considering how much "advanced alien technology" he was "freely sharing with humanity." Membrane hoped that this was a hint that Dib was gradually giving up on his delusional beliefs.

Seeing the glower that Dib favored Zim with now, Membrane was no longer quite so certain. He was terrified they were about to have a repeat of Take Your Kids To Work Day.

Dib must have guessed Membrane's concerns, because instead of immediately yelling at Zim and causing a scene, he leaned in close to his dad and slightly lowered his voice. "Dad, I _know_ you don't believe me, but just—just think for a moment. If he _is_ an alien—if there's even the slimmest possibility!—wouldn't it be really, really dangerous to spend two nights sharing a hotel room with him?"

Membrane sighed. "Son..."

"Just—as a thought exercise, Dad!"

Membrane sighed again, but said, "All right. I concede that, _if_ he were an invading space alien like you claim, then it would be the height of foolishness to let my guard down around him."

Dib's face lit up.

"But he isn't!" Membrane snapped. "And I will not insult one of the _greatest scientific minds_ the world has ever seen by treating him like he is!"

From the corner of his eye, Membrane saw Zim's grip on the car door slip and almost send him tumbling headfirst out of the window.

Zim quickly recovered his balance. "Besides, _Dib!_ " he yelled. "If I really _was_ an alien invader infiltrating your pathetic little world in order to undermine its defenses and prepare it to receive the untender mercies of my superior species's armada—" he took a deep breath, "—then wouldn't it be _really stupid_ of me to do anything to harm my best connection to your world's militaries and governments in a place where I'd be the first suspect? Any _competent_ interstellar empire would _never_ trust a soldier to invade an alien planet if he didn't consider basic issues like that!"

"There, you see?" Membrane said. "Nothing to worry about, even if he _was_ an alien. Which he's clearly not."

Dib glanced between Zim and Membrane, then raised a fist and shouted at Zim, "If you do _anything_ to my dad...!"

"Oookay, son." Membrane patted his shoulder.

Gaz tugged on his lab coat. "What's this about feeding a dog?"

"Oh! I almost forgot to mention. To save on babysitting and petsitting costs, Zim and I agreed that you two should petsit his dog. Zim assures me he's trained as a guard dog and great with children."

Dib yelped, "What?!"

"That's your cue!" Zim opened the car door. "Your operation begins _now!_ " His dog launched himself out with a shriek, barreled into Dib, and knocked them both into the house. Gaz followed to watch. What an enthusiastic pet.

"And remember to walk him!" Membrane called into the house. "He seems to be a high energy breed! So long!" He shut the door.

And turned toward Zim.

###

Halfway to the airport, Membrane said, very seriously, "Zim, could I have a word with you about how you spoke to my son?"

Zim blinked in surprise. "But of course." And gave him an attentive look.

"While I recognize you were trying to communicate with my son on his own, insane terms—and I _do_ appreciate that you expedited the process of getting him to accept our travel arrangements—I'm not comfortable with your... _playing along_ with his delusions the way you did. By entertaining his 'invading alien' thought experiment to such a detailed extent, I'm concerned that you might help reinforce it."

For a split second, Zim looked slightly bewildered; and then realization dawned on him, and his eyes brightened. "I see! Yes, of course." Zim gave Membrane a broad smile. "Naturally, I understand the importance of respecting a parent unit's right to raise their worm-child in the way that they see fit. If he brings up the topic with me again, I'll be sure to not engage with his _alien delusions_ anymore. I'll just insist to him that he's completely crazy for thinking that I might be an alien. If that meets your parenting standards?"

"Yes, thank you," Membrane said, relieved. He hadn't thought that Zim would have any objections, but he'd taken it even better than Membrane had suspected—identified exactly what the issue was and exactly how Membrane wanted him to deal with it. Zim had such a strange way of understanding the world—brilliant, and yet at times somehow oddly out of touch with the way that other people thought and acted. Membrane hadn't been sure how he would interpret this request.

He should have expected that Zim would accept it with good grace, though. Sure, he was as socially awkward a man as Membrane had ever met; but where it really counted, it seemed, he and Zim were always on the same wavelength.

###

"I'm so sorry," the hotel front clerk said, "it looks like your original reservation was for a room with one king-sized bed. You said that you reserved a room with two double beds?"

"We should have," Membrane said, puzzled. He looked down at Zim, who'd made the reservation.

Zim's eyes were wide with shock. "Ohhh, the 'king' refers to the _size_ of the bed."

"An easy mistake," Membrane said sympathetically. To the clerk, he said, "Is there any way you can transfer us to a room with two beds?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid they're all booked right now. I can get you a rollaway bed?"

"Please," Membrane said, and a nervous tension he hadn't noticed loosened from his shoulders.

###

Membrane and Zim stared dubiously at the rollaway bed.

It had a mattress that looked like it had been used as a punching bag, limply draped on a rickety metal frame that looked like it had also been used as a punching bag, albeit less successfully and probably to the detriment of the boxer's knuckles.

Membrane and Zim glanced at each other.

"Welp!" With some effort, Zim hauled himself up onto the king-sized bed and crawled to the middle. "Glad that problem's solved! Good night."

Oh, clever man. Membrane's gaze slowly turned back to the rollaway bed. "Right."

He gingerly sat down in the middle of it. Were those uncomfortable lumps the springs, or the metal framework underneath the mattress? He had to prod the surface with one hand to figure out it was the latter; the mattress didn't have springs. Maybe he could get some cardboard under the mattress to make it less lumpy—What was that creaking sound?

Both ends of the mattress snapped up like a book slamming shut, trapping Membrane in the middle.

Through the mattress, he heard a loud, "HA!"

He decided to forgive Zim for laughing once Zim helped pry the steel trap of a bed frame open.

He couldn't see what Zim did, but even Membrane's robotic arms had struggled to leverage the frame open until Zim had pitched in. Zim must have been much stronger than he looked. Membrane made note of that.

And then resigned himself to the prospect of splitting the king-sized bed.

###

Membrane was staring at the wall.

He was lying in bed, eyes open, back toward the center of the bed, underneath all the covers despite the fact that with his lab coat and lab gloves and lab pants and lab socks on he was on the verge of sweating to death. He dearly missed his own bed, with his lab sheets. Perfectly designed to circulate air.

But the stuffy hotel blankets weren't the only reason he was sweating.

Zim was staring at the ceiling.

At least, he had been the last time Membrane checked on him. That had been just past midnight. It was 1:58 now. Zim had been lying flat on his back, spread eagle, on top of the covers, staring upward. Membrane had quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. He hadn't heard Zim stir since then. Had he fallen asleep? Membrane certainly hoped so. At least _one_ of them should get some sleep. Maybe Zim had already been asleep; maybe he slept with his eyes open.

Membrane was still staring at the wall.

He'd been staring since he'd gone to bed around half past ten. It was 1:59 now. This was absurd. And he'd spent every minute of the night as uncomfortably aware that Zim was there, silent and unseen, on the bed behind him, as he was uncomfortably aware of his own phantom limbs on the rare occasions he removed his robotic arms. Like the invisible presence of Zim tickled at some itch he couldn't scratch.

Maybe he should give up on sleep. But there was nothing to do at two in the morning. If he got on his laptop to work on a paper or run some simulations, he might wake Zim. How much longer until the hotel restaurant opened and he could get breakfast? It probably opened at six. Maybe five, if Membrane was lucky. That was another three hours in bed.

In bed with Zim.

Sharing a bed with the smartest, strangest, most fascinating man Membrane had ever met.

Alone.

In a hotel.

A thousand miles away from where the kids could overhear or interrupt.

At a nutritional engineering conference. _Anything_ could happen at a _nutritional engineering_ conference.

Membrane was still staring at the wall.

The clock said 2:00.

Membrane sat bolt upright. He couldn't take it. He pushed the covers aside and stood.

"What?"

Membrane started. "Oh."

He turned toward the bed. Zim was still lying in the same spot in the exact center of the bed, looking up at Membrane.

"Did I wake you?"

Zim considered the question for a long moment, then carefully asked, "What do _you_ think?"

That was a yes. "My apologies." Zim must have been a light sleeper. "I'll try to be quieter."

Zim sat up. "It's not normal to get up at two in the morning." He paused. "Is it?"

"I'm just going to take a cold shower," he said, immediately reviewed his own wording, and died a little inside. "Not a cold shower! Just a regular one. To... assist with my blood circulation." He hurried to the bathroom without waiting to hear how Zim reacted to that.

By the time he'd stripped, pulled on his disposable plastic gloves and thong to keep his robotic prosthetics dry, and gotten in the shower, he felt like an absolute fool. Look at him. He hadn't been this hot and bothered over anyone since puberty. And over one of his own employees, no less! Why, Zim didn't even have a doctorate yet!

And Membrane didn't even know what Zim's orientation was—which was generally the _least_ someone should know before contemplating romance. Zim almost never talked about his personal life and had never mentioned any relationships. Membrane Labs attracted a higher than average percentage of LGBT employees—both because Membrane had striven to make his labs an LGBT-friendly workplace and because Membrane himself was trans (and _some_ form of not straight, more precise orientation analysis results still pending)—so there was certainly a possibility that Zim was among them. But "higher than average percentage" still meant "under fifty percent." Did Zim seem like the kind of man who was attracted to men?

Membrane had no idea. Frankly, Zim seemed like the kind of man who was attracted to SCIENCE! A sentiment Membrane empathized with. But under the present circumstances it wasn't very encouraging.

This was completely out of line. No matter how brilliant, prolific, and diverse an inventor Zim was. Or how he brought in some new machine seemingly every week. Or how charismatic or confident he was. Or what a fascinated, attentive, curious, and enticingly _strange_ conversation partner he was. Or—

Nooo no. Stop right there. Stop trying to read more into how Zim hung onto Membrane's every word when no one else could ever seem to keep Zim's attention. Or the way Zim eagerly demonstrated each of his new inventions to Membrane first and waited with bated breath for Membrane's analysis. Or—

And there he went again.

Nothing about this train of thought was objective.

Membrane needed to be objective.

He pulled his clothes back on—his lab coat was cold and clammy, he should have brought a fresh one to the bathroom with him—returned to the bedroom, and carefully and quietly climbed back under the covers on his half of the bed.

At which point Zim hopped up, announced, "My turn," and darted into the bathroom like he was afraid he'd do something he'd regret in the morning if he stayed just a second longer. Membrane's irrational hopes soared.

Look at him. Like a fourteen-year-old at a sleepover with his first crush.

The shower ran for nearly an hour. Membrane's shoulder was getting stiff from laying on one side; he flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling. When Zim returned, already completely dried and hair perfectly coiffed, it was as though he hadn't even showered at all.

Membrane envied his composure.

###

Membrane managed to doze a few hours. Zim had already taken off by the time Membrane woke up—no doubt to get breakfast or network with other attendees before the first panels of the day—and Membrane found himself relieved he didn't have to see Zim first thing in the morning after spending half the night thinking about him.

Membrane Labs' main presentation was late Saturday afternoon: a demonstration of the capabilities of the Nutrifier 5000—the first oven that could transform raw dirt into delicious meals—followed by a question and answer session. Per the emphatic and unanimous advice of the lab's most senior scientists, Membrane had reluctantly agreed that Zim shouldn't be involved in the presentation. Even though he had been more than instrumental in its completion, he... got weird in front of big audiences. Slightly maniacal and borderline incomprehensible. But very few scientists had both a brilliant mind and an effortless mass-media-ready persona the way Professor Membrane did, and there was no shame in that; and of the two, a brilliant mind was far and away more important, and Zim _certainly_ had that.

And he also had, in Membrane's opinion, an irresistible magnetic charisma. It just worked better in small teams than in front of large crowds. That was fine. Presenting to large audiences was a skill Zim could learn in time; and it was a skill Membrane intended to _guarantee_ he learned to prepare him for an expanded future at Membrane Labs.

For now, though, Membrane could handle presenting their latest invention, and Zim could take advantage of the freedom to attend the panels that Membrane couldn't. _Strategic efficiency!_

Although it was perhaps for the best that Zim wasn't a speaker on the panel, it was still a shame that he couldn't present when the Nutrifier 5000 wouldn't even exist if not for his brilliant work. Zim was, Membrane had no doubt, worthy of being considered one of the world's up-and-coming super scientists. The public deserved to hear his name when they were witnessing one of his creations! _Zim_ deserved for his name to be heard.

So during the panel Membrane made sure to mention Zim's involvement.

And mention it a couple more times.

And list a small handful of Zim's other accomplishments, to provide the appropriate context.

Nothing effusive.

###

It wasn't until the end of the presentation, when Membrane was politely waiting for the audience to stop applauding, cheering, sobbing in awe, chanting his name, etc., that he realized Zim was watching from the door to the presentation room.

Membrane's blood ran cold. Zim was staring directly at him, eyes almost inhumanly wide, perfectly still—and when he saw Membrane looking at him, he flinched and ducked out of the door. Membrane flinched too.

How long had Zim been standing there? Long enough to hear Membrane talk about him? Maybe not—he'd only brought Zim up a couple of times... no, three... five times. Five times he'd mentioned Zim. Er, praised Zim. Effusively. Effusively praised. It definitely _had_ been effusive. How incredibly unprofessional.

Unprofessional and—and no doubt humiliating for him, to hear his employer gushing over him in front of an audience of over a hundred people. And inappropriate, for a _boss_ toward his _employee_ —the authority that controlled Zim's future career—especially if Zim guesses the full extent of Membrane's... less intellectual feelings toward him. Had he figured it out?

What must Zim be thinking about him?

Membrane hardly registered the scientists and fans that swarmed up to the panelists' table to shake his hand and ask for his autograph, he was so worried about what was going through Zim's head.

###

"Sooo. How were the other panels?" It was the most delicate way Membrane could think of to address the fact that Zim had not, in fact, been at the other panels.

"Huh?" In his peripheral vision, Membrane could see Zim start in his seat. They'd been having dinner at the hotel bar in silence for the last ten minutes. (Membrane had been having dinner, anyway. Zim had been having potato chips with chocolate sauce. Zim's diet was an ever-evolving mystery.) "Oh, uh—canceled. When the humans giving their presentations were reminded that their panel overlapped with our lab's, they left to go watch."

"Ah. Of course." Membrane should have anticipated that. It wasn't the first time.

"It seems that the demonstration went well," Zim said carefully. "I am sure this will be beneficial in Membrane Labs' next fiscal quarter."

Oh no. He was talking about fiscal quarters. "Most certainly," Membrane said, just as carefully. "I have no doubt that the audience left highly impressed by the lab's most valuable assets."

He was trying to say Zim was one of those assets. He was trying to say he'd only been trying to impress upon the audience Zim's worth, his sheer genius, when Zim wasn't there to impress it upon them himself. He was trying to say he hadn't been trying to embarrass him.

He wasn't sure any of that came across. And he was afraid trying to explain directly would only make it worse.

Zim didn't reply.

They continued eating in silence.

###

Membrane had been staring at the dark ceiling for... how long?

He turned his head to look at the clock.

He'd been laying here for three hours now.

He looked at the ceiling again.

This was torture. He thought it would be better than sleeping on his side. It was not. He was going to be even more exhausted tomorrow. As soon as he got home, he was collapsing into his own bed.

He turned to look at Zim.

Zim was looking at him.

They both flinched and looked at the ceiling.

Membrane sat up. "I'm—! I am going to..."

"Shower?"

"Precisely!" He swung his feet to the floor, made it halfway to the bathroom, about-faced to grab a clean lab coat this time, and hurried into the bathroom and locked the door.

He tried to keep quiet as he thunked his head on the shower/bathtub's tile wall.

This weekend had been an unmitigated social disaster. He and Zim couldn't even look at each other. Was there the slightest chance of their professional relationship recovering from this? He mentally braced himself to be told within the next week that Zim intended to seek employment elsewhere. He started mentally writing up his letter of recommendation, at least _then_ he could safely praise Zim...

He lingered in the shower longer than he should have, took longer than he needed to to dry off, and finally opened the door to shuffle shamefully back to bed.

And immediately made eye contact with Zim.

Which was an impressive trick, considering that Zim was usually not at eye contact height.

Zim's expression was set hard with... Membrane couldn't quite tell what it was. Anger? Excitement? Determination? Anger?

Membrane cleared his throat. "Yes—?"

Zim seized him by the lab coat, his fists curled in the fabric over his shoulders, and jerked him in close.

Although Membrane's high collar separated their faces from physically touching, he could feel the shape of Zim's mouth through the fabric: his lips thin and unexpectedly firm, his unnaturally smooth face letting him press flush against Membrane without a nose to get in the way.

Membrane stopped breathing.

(He probably would have stopped breathing anyway, with his own nose squashed flat, but beside the point.)

For a moment, Zim froze there, so tense he was faintly trembling, his torso pressed to Membrane's chest; and then Membrane attempted to lean forward into the kiss. Zim jerked back, eyes flying open with a gasp like he'd just come up for air.

What just happened? "I—"

"My turn!" Zim rushed past Membrane with a flurry of—mechanical limbs? Were they coming from his metal backpack? Membrane had always suspected Zim's backpack was a medical device. But prosthetic robot limbs? Then Zim was a cyborg too?

And he was trusting Membrane with that knowledge? Marvelous.

The door slammed behind Zim, and Membrane was left with tingling lips and a slightly sore nose.

Truly marvelous.

###

Zim didn't come out of the bathroom for four hours.

When he did, he didn't say a word. Membrane felt the covers shift slightly as Zim climbed onto the bed and flopped down in his usual spot.

They were both up the instant they could see sunlight through the window curtains.

###

They didn't say a word to each other as they packed (or as Membrane packed, at least; Zim had traveled light), rode the elevator down to the first floor, checked Membrane's suitcase at the front counter, and split up to attend their respective list of Sunday panels.

Membrane regretted electing to go home Sunday evening instead of Monday morning. If they had had _one_ more night stuck in the same bed, Membrane was sure, he could have salvaged this trip. They could have ended it on a high note, instead of... whatever last night was. A mutual confession of attraction without saying anything? Certainly not a low note, but not exactly a high note either. A sort of shrill weirdly out-of-tune note. But surely that was a foundation worth building upon?

But no. The panels petered out early on Sunday, and then they had their flight home.

The talk between leaving the hotel and boarding the airplane consisted solely of strategic coordination—securing a ride to the airport, boarding passes, navigating security with multiple metal objects attached to their bodies—and once they started moving, Membrane dozed off in his chair before they reached cruising altitude. He didn't stir until they'd landed and he was jostled awake by Zim attempting to get from the window seat to the aisle by climbing over him. Once they'd gotten into the car for the ride home, they lapsed into silence again.

Membrane had never seen Zim remain so quiet for so long.

Aside from the last two nights, with his eyes wide open staring silently at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Zim, unable to sleep while lying next to Membrane.

They were halfway to Membrane's house before he worked up the nerve to start a conversation. "I think that was a very successful conference. Don't you?"

Zim started in his seat, turning away from the window. "Oh—oh yes! Such bountiful knowledge we have obtained on the science of nutritional engineering."

"And the professional networking!" Membrane added. "Veeery important, professional networking."

"But of course," Zim said. "I collected fifty-six different business cards."

"Absolutely outstanding!" Membrane hesitated. After yesterday's flubs, he desperately wanted to avoid overstepping his bounds—either professionally or socially. But Zim _had_ made the first move. He might even be _waiting_ to see whether Membrane made the next. So... All right, just do it, just get it over with. "And it was... quite pleasant, to have an opportunity to socialize with you outside of work hours."

Zim tensed, eyes widening and gripping the edge of his seat. From anticipation or from dread?

Please be anticipation. Nervously, Membrane went on: "If your no doubt very busy schedule allows it, I would... be amenable to socializing outside of work more often. If the opportunity—"

"I'm free tonight!" Zim shouted. "And tomorrow night! And every night this week. And next week."

They stared at each other.

Zim slouched back in his seat, shrugged, and casually said, "So, ya know, it's whatever."

"Wonderful." They'd turned onto his street, so Membrane said, "We'll schedule something at work tomorrow," and grabbed his suitcase.

Dib and Gaz were waiting in front of the house with Zim's dog between them, looking scuffed up and worn out—figured, he left them alone for two days and they start roughhousing. Dib had a firm grip on one of the dog's floppy ears. He didn't let go until Membrane had exited the car, said his farewells to Zim, and walked toward the front door, at which point Dib gave the dog a firm push to start him walking. Membrane and the dog passed each other halfway along the walkway.

"Son and daughter! How nice of you to greet me at the—" He had a realization, paused, turned around to see the dog climbing into the car with Zim, and turned back to his kids. "Was that a hostage exchange?"

"Can't be too cautious, Dad," Dib said. "There was no way to tell whether Zim would let you go willingly. A valuable source of intel like you—"

Gaz kicked Dib's ankle. "What Dib _means_ is 'Welcome home, Dad. How was the conference?'"

"I'll tell you all about it over dinner! Come. I acquired some free samples of astronaut food at the conference. It should be delicious squeezed out on Super Toast."

Just before he headed inside, he glanced back toward the street again, watching as the car with Zim in it disappeared around the corner.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the fic, a reblog for the post linking to this fic [from tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/190833228052/158-am-at-the-nutritional-engineering) or a comment (either on tumblr or here) would be greatly appreciated!


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